


Violet Hill

by januarywren



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alpha Petyr Baelish, Alpha Sandor Clegane, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bodyguard Sandor Clegane, Creepy Petyr Baelish, Daddy Kink, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom Petyr Baelish, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Fluff, Forced Bonding, Grooming, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Manipulative Petyr Baelish, Mating, Mild Smut, Mind Games, Mob Boss Petyr Baelish, Obsession, Oh Petyr, Older Man/Younger Woman, Omega Sansa Stark, Organized Crime, POV Petyr Baelish, POV Sandor Clegane, Petyr Baelish is His Own Warning, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Protective Sandor Clegane, Protectiveness, Romance, Size Kink, Squick, Tenderness, Unhealthy Relationships, the games that you play, while having true feelings beneath it all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23212894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/januarywren/pseuds/januarywren
Summary: "Oh, Petyr!” Sansa cried, “Paint them pink! I love pink -““Mhm,” Petyr replied, his arms curled about her waist. They laid together in the living room, the cream, suede loveseat their favorite place to cuddle. “And what do good girls say?”She pouted, her lower lip quivering, “But Petyr," she said, her tone knowing. "I'm not a good girl or a bad one. I'myourgirl. “She fluttered her eyelashes, the same as she had seen girls do in the movies.He laughed then, as rich and smooth as the vintage wine that he let her try on occasion.Modern AU | Petyr takes an orphaned, little bird into his care. | Chapter two is a sansan remix of the story!
Relationships: Petyr Baelish & Sansa Stark, Petyr Baelish/Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane & Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 94





	1. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned how much I adore Sansa (???) 
> 
> I just want her to be happy and with someone who will love and protect her, no matter what. (Though the 'healthy'-ness of Sansa being with Petyr is highly questionable, lmao) 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and stay safe everyone! I'm thinking about you all, please feel free to message me on Tumblr, or ask for my Discord. I know how scary everything can be right now, and it's okay to feel scared - I'm here for anyone who needs someone to talk to, about anything really. ❤
> 
> (And yes - I love Coldplay. A lot.)

"Oh, Petyr!” Sansa cried, “Paint them pink! I love pink -“

“Mhm,” Petyr replied, his arms curled about her waist. They laid together in the living room, the cream, suede loveseat their favorite place to cuddle. “And what do good girls say?”

She pouted, her lower lip quivering, “But Petyr," she said, her tone knowing. "I'm not a good girl or a bad one. I'm _your_ girl. “She fluttered her eyelashes, the same as she had seen girls do in the movies.

He laughed then, as rich and smooth as the vintage wine that he let her try on occasion.

How could he have thought that Catelyn ever compared?

It had been a stroke of luck, finding Sansa wandering the streets of New York. She hadn’t been homeless long enough to know that every donation came with strings attached, and she hadn’t fought him when he carried her into his waiting car. His driver hadn’t questioned the sight, and neither had the bodyguards that followed him.

“ _How old are you, sweetling_?”

“ _S-Sixteen_ ,” she’d stuttered, her cheeks turning pink.

She could have been theirs, with her doe-like eyes, and fire kissed hair, if Petyr had fathered her at twenty and Cat hadn't left him behind with a scar that stretched the length of his torso. Sansa’s mother had never wanted him, choosing Ned Stark instead. As it was, he knew that the Starks had been gunned down by the Lannister's in their home, after a deal went wrong.

The eldest son, Robb, had stepped out of the store he worked at and had been shot there. He’d died on the filthy sidewalk, though Petyr had paid for him to be interred near his family’s plot. Right beside Ned, the father that he was the spitting image of. Oh yes, he’d kept an eye on the Starks, close enough to know that not all of them were gone.

Sansa had stayed at a friend’s house the night that the shooting happened, and had been far from home. Far enough not to hear the screams and the pained shouts, unlike the neighbors that surrounded the Starks. Thin walls and gunshots - well, it never boded well.

"Where did you go, little one?" Petyr had wondered while surveying the streets below his penthouse. He'd told those below him to comb the streets for a scared little bird, one with red curls, and eyes the color of the ocean. " _Fuck Petyr, when did you become a poet_?" Varys had teased, though he'd passed the order on anyway.

And she was like a little kitten, Petyr thought, as she squirmed in his lap. Even after a year of filling meals and sleeping beneath silk sheets, Sansa was smaller than he'd like. It would take nothing for him to snap her wrist, or force her on to hands and knees, allowing him to mount her.

As if they were animals, he scowled.

He always told himself to be gentle when he buried his head between her legs and held her spread legs against the bed.

_gentle, gentle, gentle_ -

He never wanted to see violet bruises cover her skin, or have her look at him with fear in her eyes.

Anticipation - desire - no, even when he needed to punish her, h never wanted her to have fear of him. He was a man with her, not a beast with glistening canines and sharp claws.

Petyr nuzzled her curls with his chin and purred when Sansa stilled. He had taught her well, as he slowly drew her to him, always keeping his hand held out toward her. He'd known that it would take time and countless lemon-flavored treats for her to come to him.

For her to trust him.

Want him.

And she did, as she came to him when her dreams were filled with terror, and her scent screamed of her distress. He held her close, closer than anyone ever had, and knew just how to mouth her mating gland. He hadn't broken it yet, but she keened when he traced it with his tongue and soothed the irritated skin with the sweetest of kisses.

His was untouched as well after he’d spurned the touch of others after Cat. He used one of his girls during his Ruts, never having the same girl twice.

And then Sansa had come into his life…

“That’s right,” Petyr agreed, stroking her side. “You’ll always be mine, Sansa.”

“And you’re mine,” she reminded him, tilting her head upward to look at him. She found that the thought of anyone else being with him, like well, _that_ , made her stomach turn. (Petyr seemed to know how she felt, drawing her into his lap and kissing her until she was breathless after she saw one of his 'friends' leave…"There, there, put your claws away, little one," he'd told her, chuckling at her flushed cheeks.)

“Of course.”

There was nothing else that he would rather be.

He had plans, so many plans, all to do with the girl he held close.

She’d been learning to take his fingers and his kisses well, and he had nearly lost himself the first time he lapped at the slick that coated her thighs. She truly was the sweetest paradise, one that he would sink to his knees for, in worship.

He had dreams, ones that left him gasping and jerking awake, of her virgin heat. He would be the one to care for her, the only one who would hear her pained whimpers, and gasping cries. The thought of her begging him for his cock, for his knot -

It was more than he could bear.

He’d come from the thought more than once, his seed spread across his stomach. He kept blockers in his nightstand, ones that kept him from losing control, and mating Sansa then, and there.

_Wait_ , he told himself, _you have to wait_.

(He would, for her.)

He had sent every omega and beta away when Sansa came with him, he thought of no one but her. There was nothing that he did without her at the forefront of his reason, and it had been her choice, the first time that he fingered her. Her breathing had quickened, and her hand had moved beneath the covers when he awoke -

“ _Do you want my help, sweetling_?”

She’d nodded, her wet fingers tugging his close.

The noise of his fingers curling inside her and the small cries that had slipped from her were more than he ever could have imagined. He awoke her with kisses on her thighs and made her come again, not wanting her to shy away from what had transpired between them.

He wanted all of her. 

“Will you paint my nails now?” Sansa asked, brushing her lips against his jaw. His skin was smooth and soft, something that she loved about him. There had been a man on the street one that had snuck up on her when she slept beside someone’s front door.

“ _Sing me a song, little bird_ ,” the man rasped. “ _Why won’t you sing me a song_ -“

“Sansa.”

_a pretty, pretty song_ -

She blinked, hearing Petyr’s voice once more. “You’re here,” he whispered, “You’re safe.”

He knew that she was distressed still, and began to purr; the trembling of his chest comforting to her. She pressed her ear against his dress shirt, one of the buttons rough against her skin. “Thank you for painting my nails,” Sansa said softly, tapping his foot with hers. “You’re better at it than I am.”

“A true talent,” was his wry reply.

He always painted her nails for her, cradling her feet in his lap, or holding her hand in his. His strokes were always exact, and he was gentle when he filed and buffed her nails. He’d started doing it for her when he found her crying, and she’d spilled nail polish across his glass table.

“ _I’m s-sorry_ ,” she’d cried. “ _Sorry P-Petyr, sorry_!”

He’d pressed his lips against hers; a chaste, sweet kiss that had quieted her. He’d pulled a chair next to her and held her hand in his while using nail polish remover to clean her nails. Afterward, he had painted them grey and white in turn and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “ _It’s alright, sweetling_ ,” he’d whispered, “ _it’s alright_.”

She'd cried for her family, and he'd drawn her into his lap and cradled her head against him. " _Can I stay here_?” Sansa had whimpered, “ _With y-you Petyr? Please don’t send me a-away, please_!”

They both knew she had nowhere else to go.

“ _You’ll always have a place beside me_ , _sweetling_ ,” he’d promised, and she’d heard the earnestness in his voice. Petyr wasn’t a liar, no, he’d never lied to her. And she never lied to him in turn, whispering things to him when they slept, side by side, instead of the diary that she used to write in. (He _was_ her diary now, a thought that made Sansa giggle.)

Sansa relaxed as Petyr held her hand in his, and he reached for the nail supplies near them. “Let me take care of you, little one,” Petyr said. He always seemed to know what she wanted, and what she needed, even when she herself didn’t know.

Her scent was light and airy, the prettiest perfume that he’d ever known. It gave away her tears and her distress, the same as it betrayed her pleasure, and her joy. Petyr’s purrs grew louder, as he slowly started to paint her fingernails with a clear coat. The second layer would be baby pink, just as she wanted.

And Sansa -

She smiled as pretty as a blooming flower turning toward the sun. “I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat with me: https://januarywren.wixsite.com/januarywren 🌹 
> 
> https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Beta'd by Grammarly! 🦝🖤


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansan redux of Violet Hill...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A) I love Sansan.
> 
> B) There's not enough fics where Sansa's love interest gives her a pet. 
> 
> C) I didn't come up with Petyr's 'nickname' (I'll credit the fic author when I find them again!)
> 
> I've been meaning to write a Sansan fic for a minute, and I'm glad that I had a chance to. 😏❤ Thank you for all the kudos, views, and comments/messages, they truly mean the world to me! Stay safe everyone, and feel free to reach out to me.

"Are you sure about this, Clegane?" Maria, the woman who found what others couldn't, asked. "I can...send the pup back if you think your girl would like a dog from the pound instead.”

“Aye,” Sandor replied, “She had a pup like this when she was younger.”

“She’s a Stark then,” Maria guessed, taking her friend’s scowl for agreement. It was her business to know every family in the city, as well as memorizing the family member’s idiosyncrasies and their favorites, seeing as most were her clients. Or ex-clients. “All Ned’s children had wolf cubs, didn’t they?” 

There wasn’t a person in the city who hadn’t heard of the Starks, nor the tragedy that befell them. It was a deal gone wrong, some whispered, while others, closer to the source knew that Baelish had intended on betraying the Starks from the beginning. Ned blinded from nostalgia when he made a deal with Robert and Petyr for a peaceful cease-fire. 

Sandor never cared for the details, preferring to know the facts instead: the Starks were dead, buried in their family plots. All except one, that was.

_Sansa_.

The little bird had been staying at a friend's house and had arrived home to a taped off street, and police swarming the block. She had fled and kept her head down.

It would have worked too, if she hadn't wandered into the bar that he owned, and asked for work. " _Why shouldn’t I force you back into your cage, little bird?”_ he’d asked, and had chuckled when her cheeks had flushed, and she’d stammered in reply. She was as Omega as they came, all sweetness and light.

“ _Please, sir_ -“

“ _I’m no sir, girl_.”

Sandor grimaced at what his brother would have said, in his stead. (But Gregor was dead, he reminded himself as he felt his face burn. He wasn’t going to claw his way out from six feet underground, no matter how strong the bastard was.)

“ _I have nowhere else to go_ ,” Sansa had whispered, and fuck if Sandor hadn’t poured a whiskey for her. She’d downed it in two gulps too, and kept a good part of it down, her sputtering and cringing aside. “Do you think I can help you? Honestly?” he’d found himself asking, and had shifted when she leveled her earnest gaze at him.

“ _Please -_ “

“ _Stop singing the same song, little bird_ ,” he’d snapped, turning his back toward her.

Only she hadn’t fled, not as he’d expected, but had stayed at the bar until closing time. She hadn’t said a peep, not even when he slid glasses across the bar toward her, along with a towel for her to dry them with. She’d done as he asked instead, Sandor surprised that she even knew _how_ to dry dishes. (Didn’t the Starks have servants for that? Sandor thought with a sneer.)

Yet he hadn’t voiced his thoughts, not then.

She hadn’t said anything when he finished closing up and took her by the arm either. He lived three blocks away from the bar, and he'd kept his hold on her, while they walked there.

He set a brisk pace and took her through a filthy alleyway that led to the backstairs to his apartment. Few knew where he lived, and there was good reason for that. (One of Stannis’ men had followed him there, and he’d gutted them swiftly, before leaving them on the Baratheon’s doorstep.) Sandor appreciated his privacy, and he wasn’t going to let anyone interfere with that, including a sweetly chirping bird. 

“ _I won’t save you_ ," he'd told her bluntly after they'd eaten microwave meals in front of the television, and he let her curl up on the couch. " _I can’t, even if I wanted to. Every family in the city is after you, the little bird that got away_. _Fuck, the bounty that Littlecunt has on you_ -”

She hadn't burst into tears or begged him to help her, as he thought that she would.

No, she’d gone white and -

“ _I’m okay_ ," she'd whispered when he'd gone to hold her close as if he thought she would faint. (A part of him had thought that she would, with how still she was, and how haunted her expression turned.)

“ _No, you’re not, little bird_ ,” he’d retorted.

He wanted her cries and her tears, more than he wanted her composure and sweet manner.

Maybe that was why he'd let her stay a week before he'd taken her to Clegane Keep. It was a property three hours from the city, a beachside cottage that few remembered the Clegane family owned. He was the last of his family, and it was fitting that he cared for the property as he wished.

" _My sister loved it here_ ,” Sandor remarked, while he carried her meager belongings into the kitchen. She only had what she’d taken with her to the sleepover with her friend, everything tucked into a suede backpack. “ _We would build sandcastles on the beach, and find the constellations when night fell.”_

They were pathetic words coming from him, yet the little bird had eaten them up anyway; as hungry as a robin gobbling up worms. He’d known that, after she chirped to him during the ride there, about the last vacation the Starks had taken. “ _I can’t promise you’ll be safe here_ ,” Sandor had reminded her, and her smile had faltered.

“ _I know_ ,” she’d whispered, and his hands had tightened about the wheel. He found that it made him uncomfortable when her smile fell, and a pained look replaced it instead. “ _I…I’m not safe anywhere, am I_?”

“ _A hound will die for you, but never lie to you_ ,” Sandor had been tempted to say, the words heavy on his tongue. He’d said nothing instead, silence reigning between them until they’d arrived, and toured the house.

He'd flinched at how right it looked when Sansa leaned over the balcony and exclaimed at the crashing waves below. " _It’s beautiful_ ,” she’d exclaimed, delight in her tone.

Her words had followed Sandor, when he was back in the city, and told Littlecunts men to leave. “The Stark bitch never came here,” Sandor had snapped, baring his teeth. “I would have tasted her cunt if she had."

Just as the city knew Littlefinger and the Lannisters, they knew the Hound too.

They’d scurried away, and Sandor had felt weak with pathetic relief.

(Who knew a mangled hound would look after a little bird?)

He'd left Sansa with one of his credit cards, and found that she ordered little, a new set of pajamas, a small, red toaster, and several romance novels. Sandor had snorted at that but found himself amused regardless.

Did she have any idea of the man she was trusting? He wasn't a prince like in the stories, nor a beast that would change his ways. He'd taken himself in hand more than once while imagining her small hands in place of his, and his name on her lips. Everything about her drew him in, from her fire kissed hair to the small ream of gold in her eyes and the way that she didn't shy from him.

Still, he wasn’t a prince, nor was he a hero.

He was only a man, and hardly a good one, unlike the ones that Sansa read about.

'Typical,' he thought, yet found with every visit that she surprised, and pleased him. She was one of the few to look at him without flinching and dared to touch him too. It wasn't that she wanted to fuck, no, Sandor knew that but -

When she touched his shoulder or drew his hand in hers, he found that he did nothing to stop her. He felt like he was normal when he was with her, and knew that she had little to gain from it.

He’d fucked women before who had treated him like he was a monstrous novelty, as they reveled over the size of his cock (“ _It’s so…normal then_?" one woman had remarked as if she'd thought his cock would be a mangle of flesh too.) and simpered afterward to their girlfriends about him. They'd never wanted him to kiss them, nor look at them, as they often preferred to be taken while on all fours. He wasn’t a man to them, nor even a boy, but an alpha creature they wanted to tame and had a knot that they craved. 

_No_.

A creature they wanted to own as if he had no heart, or mind of his own.

It was different with Sansa, _everything_ was.

“Clegane?” he blinked as he heard his sometimes friend, calling his name. He grunted as Maria set a wolf pup in his arms, and it squirmed, wanting to lick his face.

“I chose the friendliest one,” Maria explained, her tone wry. “Obedient too. Richard had a fit when she peed on his shoes -“ Maria shrugged, her painted lips curling upward in amusement. It wasn’t often that she saw her live-in-lover flustered. “She immediately took to using puppy pads after that, something I think your little bird would appreciate.”

Sandor stroked the pup’s flank, pleased at the soft feel of its fur. It was as white as the wolf that Sansa had lost, her ‘Lady’ murdered alongside the other Starks. (Sandor had learned about the wolf after Sansa had burst into tears, while they watched a nature documentary. He hadn’t taken her into his arms, he _hadn’t_.)

“Thank you,” Sandor said lowly, feeling the wolf thump her tail against his leg.

“Of course,” Maria replied. “You’ve never asked me for a favor before,” her dark eyes glimmered, the same as when a cat dangled a helpless mouse with its claws, “I was _terribly_ intrigued, Clegane.”

He said nothing in reply, instead moving the pup to settle fully in his arms. Sandor knew that Sansa was lonely, seeing no one but hm as she lived at Clegane Keep. It wasn't safe for her yet, Sandor knew if word filtered back to Baelish or the other crime families.

She was the safest there, and would be safer too if he didn't visit her weekly -

(He’d stayed away for days after she settled in, his Rut triggered by her biting her lip. He’d locked himself in his apartment with a bottle of whiskey, and took his Rut alone, with the help of his hand. Sansa had been at the forefront of his thoughts, and her name had been the only one on his lips.)

_Dangerous_ -

Everything about Sansa in his life, and vice versa was dangerous.

Yet Sandor found his visits were always welcomed by her and felt a peace with her that he'd never had with another. Aside from his sister, Sandor knew, though they'd been merely children then. He wondered what she would have thought of him later, had she known he'd murdered Gregor, and hid a little bird away from the world, in their home. Somehow, he thought she might be proud of him.

_Might_. 

“She must be special,” Maria continued, her tone soft, “for you to do this for her.”

Sandor stretched, crossing his legs as the pup grumbled, and chewed on his collar. “She’s something alright.”

( _She’s mine_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat with me: https://januarywren.wixsite.com/januarywren 🌹 
> 
> https://januarywren.tumblr.com/ 🌹
> 
> and ask for me my discord! 🌹
> 
> Beta'd by Grammarly! 🦝🖤


End file.
